


a minute to midnight

by cosmonaught



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonaught/pseuds/cosmonaught
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue Steel meets Jolly Green, and the rest is confetti.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a minute to midnight

**Author's Note:**

> written for [samdean_otp's](http://samdean_otp.livejournal.com) 2013 [commentmeme](http://samdean-otp.livejournal.com/384804.html); _that time Sam got drunk on NYE and wound up kissing Dean at midnight_ prompted by [cordelia_gray](http://cordelia-gray.livejournal.com).  
>  original postdate: 1.05.13

Okay, there was this one year, this one New Year's Eve, and I was working this bartending gig—shut up; it was _necessary;_ books don't pay themselves!

So I'm bartending, right? And there's this guy, he's been at the counter for a couple hours, and he's _huge,_ like Sasquatch-huge, but trust me when I say he _could not hold his liquor for shit_.

And _man,_ was he a depressing drunk. Someshit about—gates? I don't even—whatever. Anyway, this other guy walks in, a real male-model kinda guy, you know the type—and the tall guy, he perks right the hell up, fuckin' gets up on the barstool like he needs any more height on him and calls out "Deaaaaaaaaaan!"

The model guy turns immediately, almost like he was trained to do it, and as soon as he spots Gigantor tottering roughly twenty feet in the air he groans and rubs a hand over his face and shoots me a look, like _jesus christ, man, why'd you give this sorry excuse for a drinker anything remotely containing alcohol?_ I mean, by this time—

What d'you mean, what'd I do? Nothing! I ignored it! Wasn't my fault Ginormitron couldn't handle a couple of beers.

Now, where was I?

Right, right, Blue Steel meets the Green Giant. So yeah, by this time the tall one's only had like three or four beers, but lemme tell ya, he is _drunk_. And the other guy, Dean, he's pullin' him down, saying "Sam, Sammy, come on down from there. We gotta go. We got, uh, got—fuck it, I'll just say it—there're a crapload of demons on our trail, so we gotta beat it. Like, now."

And Sam gets down, but he's all pouty and upset—I swear to god there were puppy eyes being used there—and says "But Deaaan. There's only a minute 'till midnight! We can wait until midnight, right?"

Now Dean, here, he's got this _vibe,_ like he's been through shit that he can't forget; can't unsee, but I'll be damned if he doesn't melt a little under Sam's gaze, and he agrees; takes Sam's arm and drapes it over his shoulder and half-leads, half-carries this drunken mass of a guy over to a table so they can sit down.

By the time they get there, the crowd's already counting down with the TV; chanting "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

Sam scoots over, closer to Dean in the boothseat and grins at him and Dean kinda just _stares,_ like he's stunned by how happy Sam is, or by how Sam can be so happy with him.

The crowd's hitting the homestretch now; they're at "FIVE! FOUR! THREE!" and hell, even I'm counting along with them, but I don't take my eyes off of Sam and Dean.

When everyone yells "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" streamers burst and crackers pop and people cheer; a couple champagne bottles shatter and I can hear corks popping off everywhere—there's so much of the damned confetti flyin' around that I ended up having to make a second appletini for this one chick, but I turn back just in time to see Sam lean in and kiss Dean.

At first, Dean's a little shocked, so I think _whoa, okay, not boyfriends then,_ but Dean turns out to be a smart guy—he gets with the program real fast, and he kisses back.


End file.
